


Hold You Tight

by RB (BlueflowersandWings)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueflowersandWings/pseuds/RB
Summary: This felt like affection suspended in time; a timeless thing, a timeless memory. No dark force in the world would have the power to taint it, and honestly, Alec would neverlet it."I love you," he tells them both, revels in the feel of smiles etching onto his sweaty skin, so brilliantly wide and full of adoration.Love you, too, he hears, not from a single voice, and then he's falling into welcome oblivion, unconscious to the world.-Or, 5 times where the only Shadowhunter of the Lightwood-Bane family is pampered by his two most favourite warlocks in the world, and the 1 time Alec pampers them back in the only way he's ever learnt to.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Hold You Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Despite seldom writing fluff, this idea just came to me one day and then refused to let go. Needless to say, it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it all out. I hope everybody enjoys this. :)
> 
> Title is inspired from the song "Hold Me Tight" by BTS. Just a little play on the words; thought it kind of suited the narrative.
> 
> Just for a little context: all this takes place in the timeline three years after Magnus and Alec adopted Max, and maybe a few months before they met Rafael. So Rafael isn't mentioned here, because I couldn't really find a way to write the scenes _with_ him in them. An attempt for the future, I suppose.
> 
> Happy reading! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

  


**1\. Minutes**

  


"Daddy! Daddy, wake up!"

With a small, pained groan, Alec shifts on the bed and pulls the sheets tighter around himself.

 _Three more minutes_ , he thinks in his head. _Three more minutes, and then we can get up. No one will mind if I'm three minutes late._ It was true, in part; the Institute had been chaos last night, with a surge in demonic activity coming in from random points around the city. Their were no patterns, no leads- and courtesy to the Clave's routine call-backs to Idris for personal performance evaluations, they'd been left horribly understaffed. It was a little like planning out a series of battles with only ten, twelve soldiers at his disposal- a veritable _nightmare_.

Alec had been stuck barking orders and cataloguing reports all night long, not to mention handling the stampede when their infirmary got flooded with wounded, bleeding Shadowhunters. After all that, he thinks he deserves another three minutes of rest.

But _of course_ , some people would like to dissent. "Daddy!" Max calls out, little blue fists tugging at his comfortingly warm sheets. Alec is honestly too tired to pull back at them. "It's mornin'! Breakfast time! Wake _up_!"

"Ugh," Alec grits out. His limbs feel like flayed wood, each weighing a ton. There's also a pulsing headache blooming under his eyelids. "Max, please. Not now."

"Daddy! Breakfast! Wake up!"

With a desperate hand, Alec tugs at the sheets and pulls them over his head.

"Daddy..." he hears. The flipped tone of the voice rings distinct; subdued, dismayed even. They set off at least seven individual alarms in Alec's bleary mind. Despite the throbbing in his head, Alec grits past the pain, pushes down the blankets; manages to open his eyes a crack.

Wide blue orbs and a darker, wilder mop of blue hair stares down at him. The parted curtains behind Max's head let in a stream of gentle sunlight, enveloping his form in a rose-gold glow. His little body stands shakily by the edge of the bed, fists curled into the sheets, eyes looking down at Alec with the most careful, thoughtful gaze that could be mustered by a three-and-a-half year-old. Something in Alec's chest clenches at the sight.

"Hey," he attempts a small smile at his son, hoping it doesn't come off as wrung-out as he feels. "Good morning. You're up early."

Vehemently, Max nods. "Bapa made breakfast," he babbles, lips tucked into a soft pout. "We eat together." Tiny blue fingers tap at Alec's shoulders under the covers. Magnus was cooking. That explained all of this early-morning enthusiasm.

Alec moves to get up, only to fall back with a groan as his elbows collapse from under him. "Max," he manages slowly, careful with his words. "Listen, um. I know we eat breakfast together, but... do you mind if I sleep in for a bit? Just for a little while?" As a ghost of dejection flits across his son's face, Alec scrambles to say, "Only a few minutes? I promise I won't be long."

 _There's nothing in the world I'd rather do than eat breakfast with you_ , he thinks, lousily followed by a, _when my body doesn't feel broken at all the wrong places, that is_. He doesn't elaborate his pain to Max, still such a startlingly pure soul at heart it sometimes gave Alec goosebumps. Nor does he want to hurt his feelings or cut short their bonding time- Angels know they get frightfully too little of it already. He just- wants him to understand, kind of. He also really wants to sleep.

Dark blue orbs give him a careful once-over; and then Max is clutching at the sheets and _pulling_ , upwards. "Daddy tired," he observes, pushing Alec back into the pillows with insistent fists when Alec attempts to get up- in protest, maybe. "Daddy sleep. After breakfast, I'll come sleep with you."

"You shouldn't sleep after breakfast," Alec mutters, eyes already falling closed. The mattress feels like heaven around him. "Tell _Bapak_ I'm sorry. Three more minutes, okay?"

Max holds up three chubby fingers in question. "Three?"

Alec hold up three of his own. "Three," he whispers, and then he's soundly dozing off.

At the far edge of his consciousness, a stream of tinkering sounds faintly invade his ears. Max's puttering footsteps; the creak of a door; the gentle sizzle of something mouthwatering being cooked over the stove. Magnus' voice, low and humming around the kitchen, no doubt geared up in a frilly white apron and a fancy chef's hat on his head. Their son loves the hat. His boyfriend is a sight for sore eyes- practically always, yes, but especially around the kitchen. Alec can picture it perfectly.

"Hey," Alec hears, Magnus' fond words hazy yet sharp amidst the buzzing in his mind. "Daddy isn't up yet?"

Alec can imagine his son shaking his head, eyes somber and resolute. "Daddy tired. He's sleeping."

"Ah," Magnus' voice holds a wealth of understanding. Alec wants to kiss him- as soon as his body was done pouting and revolting, that is. "Then we'll let him sleep. Help me set the table up, blueberry?"

There's the clinking of china, the ever-familiar swish of sentient magic. Alec drifts off, soft and warm and unhurried. Three more minutes- of sleep, of such profound domestic peace. He couldn't ask for more, honestly.

The scrape of a chair against the boards is followed by Magnus' voice. "Daddy worked a lot last night, so we'll let him rest, okay? Later, we can bring him his pancakes in bed."

There's the _ting_ of metal against china: a spoon being handled by inexperienced hands. "Three," Max says.

"Three?"

"Daddy said three." There's that soft _ting_ again. "We'll let him sleep for three days, and then we'll bring him pancakes."

Alec sinks into the bed, curling under the sheets, and tries to smother a helpless grin against his pillow as soft oblivion embraces him.

-

  


**2\. Bubbles**

  


Towel in hand, Alec slides open the bathroom door, and freezes one step into the cool, pearl-tiled enclosure.

The walls were scrubbed clean; the usually steamed, cloudy mirror magicked thoroughly spotless. Where the counter over the sink was generally a clutter of Magnus' innumerable hair and skin-care products, today it held only a few bottles of oil, a shampoo, a conditioner, and one of those extremely fancy aftershaves Alec sometimes had nightmares thinking about. He runs a reverent finger along the counter, taking in the arrangement, a soft warmth spreading across his ribs.

The tiled floor is warm and dry; a far cry from the wet mess that lingered whenever Max crawled out after his bath, oftentimes resembling a weeping Hudson. Magnus must've left a Heating spell around- even the air he breathed in smelled sweet, like lavender and rain. It was Alec's favourite combination of scents; Magnus was probably the only one who bothered remembering it.

 _You've got a day off after so long_ , his boyfriend had muttered, fretting over his hair, his clothes, before pushing him almost forcibly towards the bathroom. _First you need a good wash, darling. I've seen what you guys call a 'bath' at the Institute, and you need a long soak into a little extravagance. I've made preparations._ So this is what he'd been talking about.

The large, white bathtub at the end was already brimming with steaming water. Upon closer inspection, Alec could see little pink and blue bubbles plopping and bursting across the surface, wafting off an incredible smell. Alec seldom used the bath, preferring to pursue a fifteen-minute shower and be done with the affair; this presentation was so inviting though, so personal, so thoughtful and considerate- he'd be damned if he didn't spend at least a good hour in it.

He steps closer, having already discarded his clothes into the hamper outside- and stops an inch from the tub, a burst of laughter escaping him. Near the edge there lay a line of assorted soaps, liquid and bar, in such distinctly clashing flavours it was obvious his tiny son had partook in the selection. Lime and mint stood leaning against a sparkling bar of Max's favourite _Wintercloud_ ; a charcoal-infused bar sat surrounded with little pieces of strawberry scrubs. Alec felt light and heady as his gaze flitted over them; he had half a mind to use them all, honestly. He hoped Magnus wouldn't mind.

As he dips a hand into the steamy bath, an explosion of bubbles fizzle along his arm. It's colourful as it is soothing against his scarred skin, a respite from the daily grime and exertion it was subjected to. Alec feels thoroughly pampered.

They'd made plans to go out tonight; maybe an intimate Downworld restaurant, where he hoped no one would bat an eye if his son turned into a sugar-hopped bat and bumped all around the ceiling. It was the closest to a family night they'd recently had, and Alec was fiercely looking forward to it. Lowering himself into the bath, he closes his eyes, heaves a deep sigh, and lets the comfort overtake him.

An hour later, when he stumbles out of the bathroom, Magnus takes one look at his crisply-clothed form, scrunches his nose, and says, "Darling, why do you smell like Max and strawberries?"

Alec grins, pulling his boyfriend close, and presses a chaste kiss to his forehead. "Because I wanted to thank him for the soap. And thank _you_ for the bubbles. They were lovely."

-

  


**3\. Magic**

  


Something was burning.

Or at least, Alec _thought_ something was. "Magnus," he gasps against his boyfriend's lips, white-knuckled fingers clutching at broad, silk-clad shoulders. "Magnus, I think something's-"

"Leave it," Magnus says, almost a growl, each of his words accompanied with a little nip against Alec's jaw, neck, collarbone. Alec was having alarming trouble following him. "You've had a long week, darling. A long _month_. For one minute, please just stop _worrying_ and-"

Abruptly, he stills. Alec pants from where he was being pressed snug against the kitchen wall, a stream of early morning sunlight filtering in through the windows.

"Oh God," Magnus says, looking up from Alec's neck only to tip their foreheads together, a slightly hysterical laugh escaping him. "I- it's Max. I think he fried the blankets in his sleep again. I- I gotta go, change the sheets before he wakes up-"

"Yeah," Alec rasps, eyes closed, struggling to even out his breathing. "Yeah, you should probably- that. Do that."

Warm, bronze hands come up to cradle his cheeks, metal-ringed fingers cool against Alec's flushed skin. "You know what's weird," Magnus says, and Alec can feel him grinning against his lips. "He somehow _always_ manages to fry things right when we're getting comfortable. It's quite eerie, actually."

"You mean like a sixth sense?" Alec huffs. He opens his eyes; feels himself go a little weak in the knees at the sight of amber-gold eyes looking down at him with devoted adoration. "I guess. Maybe we should abstain from _getting comfortable_ for a while, then."

"But that's no fun," Magnus pouts, even though his eyes were glittering. "I love holding you like this. Love kissing you," he presses his lips to the corner of Alec's mouth; Alec's lips fall open at their own accord. "Love hearing your voice," he trails his mouth across Alec's cheek, under his left earlobe. Alec gasps when Magnus bites down gently at the sensitive skin, hips bucking forward involuntarily. "Especially when we're doing things like this."

"Magnus," Alec says, kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach of his boyfriend. He splays a hand against Magnus' chest, the defined musculature veiled poorly under a thin layer of sleepwear. "I think you should go change those sheets now."

Magnus makes a protesting noise at the back of his throat. " _Now_ ," Alec repeats, though untangling himself from Magnus is the last thing he wants to do at the moment, possibly _ever_ , "before Max wakes up. I- I'll wait for you in the bedroom, okay?"

With a little graze of teeth at his shoulder, Magnus lets Alec go. The minute his hands leave Alec's body he feels strangely bereft; all those places Magnus got his mouth on, he could feel the pale skin colouring into pink and red bruises, a vivid reminder of their ministrations. "I'll only be a moment," Magnus promises him. He makes to go- stumbles, actually-, then suddenly whirls around. There's something gently impish about his expression; Alec tilts his head as bronze fingers raise up and wiggle tentatively in the air.

"While you're waiting," Magnus ventures, raising a questioning brow. "May I...?"

To an outsider, at first glance, it may not be obvious; but Alec knows Magnus is always careful with his magic, almost absurdly so. He's always conscious of who he's subjecting it to and for _what_ , especially when it's someone close to him. He asks before anything, everything, reigning in his ingrained instinct of conjuring up a spell or two if he believes Alec wouldn't like it. Alec tries to reassure him, every time- but over the years he's realised that it's one of the many little ways Magnus shows his care, his affection. Alec wouldn't ever attempt to take that away from him.

He knows that now, understands it. Which is why he lets his shoulders slump and gives Magnus an easy smile. "Of course. Whatever you want." Alec _trusts_ him.

Magnus eyes him for a moment, then smiles. Soundless green sparks shoot out of his fingers, sinking themselves into Alec's skin. Alec feels warm, heady, suddenly two sizes too big for his body. The effects are instantaneous; there's a funny feeling brewing in his chest, his legs feel weak, like jelly, and- he bends over himself as a hot, sizzling stab of pure _want_ shoots up his spine, rocking him to the bone. _Angels_ , he doesn't know how he's still standing.

" _Magnus_ ," he gasps, breath coming out in hot puffs. His hands itch to reach out and grab onto Magnus's skin, press him bare and flush against his body. "Wha- what're you-"

"Just a little gift, while you wait for me in our bedroom," Magnus grins, golden eyes alight. "I gotta see what other things our son decimated in his sleep. Can't have you growing bored by then now, can we?"

_What bedroom_ , Alec laments as his tall, magical, terribly sexy, horribly _evil_ boyfriend skips out of the kitchen and disappears into Max's room. _I don't even have legs anymore. How do you expect me t-_

His mind goes blank as another jolt of magic shoots through his body, hot and electric, bare toes curling upon the hardwood. _Just you wait_ , he thinks, trembling, aroused and enraged in equal measure. _I'm not making this any easy for you either. Just- oh, bytheAngel-_

He makes good on his word- later. Magnus doesn't have an easy time taking control in bed (nor while picking him off the kitchen floor and carrying him to their bedroom because Alec _really_ has _no function left in his legs, guess whose fault is that_ ). It's hot and messy and maybe a little too much action at six in the morning, but it is, at the end of the day, an undoubtedly memorable experience. Enlightening, even. It is, in fact, so very impressive in its enlightenment (Alec didn't even _know_ Magnus' magic could do _that_ ) that after they're both sated and curled up against one another under the sheets, Alec slowly whispers:

"You know... that thing you did in the kitchen? You could- I mean- if you want... maybe we could try that again."

Despite the warm embarrassment brewing along his veins, Alec feels Magnus chuckle, a rough, bone-deep thing that rumbles in his chest and slowly takes over his whole body. "Oh, my love," he sighs, and presses Alec close, infinitely closer. "We can have a repeat of that whenever you want. I'm just really glad that you enjoyed it."

"Of course I did," Alec smiles, and resumes tracing careful, ever-familiar patterns across his boyfriend's chest.

-

  


**4\. Touch**

  


Something was burning. Again.

This time though, Alec knew what. Or rather, _who_. It was kind of hard not to.

"Daddy," Max whispers. Tiny blue fingers curl into his frayed sleeves, cool and fearful. The touch is grounding, insistent; a surreal sort of comfort Alec finds himself desperately clinging onto, even when one half of his body was busy rejecting it. Maybe it wasn't the best trait in a parent, but Alec would be hard-pressed to deny Max anything, much less _reject_ him. Simply the thought of it had him shaking his head at the sheer ludicrousness.

 _Or not_. As he quickly realises, attempting to shake his head while his innards threatened to tear out of his skin any moment was _not_ a wise decision.

He's been making too many of them lately.

"Hey," he hears, whispered words soothing against the burning shell of his ear. It's- _oh_ , he recognises it; deep and smooth and melodic, like summer honey beading down the roughened bark of a tree. He feels Magnus shift- above, beside, around him-, long arms coming to press him close, deeper into his embrace. It's a good place to be. Alec can't think of any _better_ place to be. "Hey, shh. You're okay. You're okay, love. I've got you."

Of course; Magnus _always_ has him. Somewhere along the years, along to _them_ , he's always got Alec, no matter what. It's mutual, if Alec had anything to say about it, but maybe sometimes he didn't do it enough. Didn't catch Magnus enough. Sometimes- _sometimes_ \- maybe _he_ wasn't enough. Like tonight-

"Whatever you're thinking of in that pretty little head of yours," his boyfriend whispers, sparking fingers trailing down Alec's sternum as Max presses closer against them, "I suggest you stop it, darling, and let yourself _rest_. You've done enough for the night."

 _Enough_. Alec doesn't know how, but Magnus _always_ knows just the right thing to say. It's kind of incredible, actually. "..M... M'gnus..."

Large, warm hands press into his body, alight with soothing blue fire. "Yes, my love?"

Alec shifts a bit; one twitching, burning arm finds Max's little, quivering body flush against his hip. "Daddy?" his son whispers, blue eyes wide, lips wobbling. Alec feels something stab through his ribs, threatening to claw apart muscle from bone, vessels from his heart- and for once, it's _not_ the after-effects of a particularly nasty variation of demon poisoning.

They couldn't have done much at the Institute- that's partly why when Magnus offered to Portal them back to their loft, Alec had agreed. Reluctantly. He didn't want to bring in the bloody, repulsive messes of his job back home, especially not to their son. The spark of fear quaking little hands and turning blue orbs glassy were a sight Alec would go to the ends of the world to erase, much less be the _cause_ of. Pain flares along his shoulder as he entangles his fingers with Max's; a gesture of reassurance, perhaps, that the soft, pained gasps leaving him intermittently serve to contradict.

Slowly, painstakingly, he tilts his face upwards. "M'gnus... pl'se.." _Take him away. Spare him the fear. Don't let him see me like this._

Above him, Magnus lets out a wounded noise. "Alexander..." He's only slightly shaking.

They hadn't spoken a word, but as if sensing the underlying implication, Max tugs himself even closer, almost climbing over Alec's leather-clad thigh. It's sticky with residual blood and grime, but the little warlock doesn't seem to mind. "Daddy," he ventures lowly, uncertainly. "Are you hurt?" It's such a careful question, trembling with confusing threads of loss and fear he's simply too young to understand. Alec couldn't let something like that go unanswered.

He considers lying, then deflecting, and then opts for neither. "Only a little," he bites out, slowly. No matter how young, his son deserved his honesty. Given the particulars of his job description, this was going to have to be something they needed to talk freely about.

Thankfully, the answer seems to relax Max more than a merciful bunch of lies ever could. "Is it 'ouchie' here?" he asks, tapping at Alec's arm. Alec feels Magnus let out a watery laugh above.

"Yeah," the corners of his lips quirk up, a bit. "Only a little though."

"And here?" Max ghosts a finger above Alec's chest, where his shirt is sweat-drenched and sticking to bruised skin. 

"Yeah. Ouchie there, too."

Max seems to consider this for a moment. "Okay." He detangles their joined hands and tries to lift Alec's limp arm, curling up like a kitten under the warmth of his armpit. "Daddy hurt," he whispers, petulant, then raises his small, chubby hands to wiggle them around the air above his body. "Ouchie bad. I magic all the ouchies away."

Magnus' laugh this time is fuller, heartier, breaking across his concerned features like the undercurrents of a lake yielding to gentle sunlight. "Of course," he murmurs, indulgent and amused, the magic in his hands swirling around Max's inexperienced palms, bleeding painful adoration into their bond. "You have two impeccable warlocks by your side, Alexander. You don't have to worry about getting hurt, or making us worry. We'll always be here to take care of you. Like you so excellently take care of _us_."

"Ouchie bad," Max mutters, fingers dancing concentratedly, wielding a flaming blue magic he's too young to call his own yet. "We'll kill all ouchies. Like all demins. Uncle Jace says we'll kill all demins."

"We need to keep Jace away from him for a while," Alec comments conversationally, low enough to be out of Max's earshot. "Even for a budding magical Shadowhunter, that's probably too much inclination towards destruction. Uncle Jace is a terrible influence."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Magnus whispers, warm and comforting, his voice a salve. "Besides, he had you, didn't he? Which is why I'm guessing he's in possession of _some_ sense to begin with. We have you, Alexander- you'll pull us back if we get a bit carried away. _Warlocks_ , am I right?"

 _Warlocks. Right._ "Thank you," Alec murmurs, eyes beginning to fall closed. There wasn't much they could do except wait for the venom to drain out; he wasn't in any less pain than before, not really, but the gentle, heartwarming gestures from his family had cast out any sort of discomfort that may have been plaguing his body. He was warm now, and loved, and safe- he was _home_ , with his _family_ of two incredible _warlocks_ , and it was enough. It was _everything_.

This felt like affection suspended in time; a timeless thing, a timeless memory. No dark force in the world would have the power to taint it, and honestly, Alec would never _let it_.

"I love you," he tells them both, revels in the feel of smiles etching onto his sweaty skin, so brilliantly wide and full of adoration. _Love you, too_ , he hears, not from a single voice, and then he's falling into welcome oblivion, unconscious to the world.

When he comes to again, their considerable-sized bed feels cramped and warm only in the best way possible.

-

  


**5\. Link**

**  
**

Alec smiles at the familiar sound of a portal fizzing into life, Magnus' voice calling out only a second later, "Darling, I'm home!"

"In here," he calls back, considerably quieter, waiting for the pattering of light footsteps to near the smaller of two couches in their living room. He's sitting with his back to the doorway, Max's little body sprawled over his lap, head against his chest, breathing rhythmically. "He's asleep," Alec whispers, as Magnus bends down to greet him with a light kiss near his mouth. Instead of nodding drowsily and heading towards the bedroom, his boyfriend comes around the couch and collapses beside him, careful so as not to disturb their slumbering son.

"He looks tired," Magnus notes, ever so perceptive. Alec nods and cards his fingers through tangled blue locks. "Darling, _you_ seem tired too. Was an entire weekend alone with a baby warlock that draining for you?"

There's obvious teasing in his voice, but also a hint of concern. Alec had assured him that he would be fine looking after their son while Magnus went to take care of some business back at the Spiral Labyrinth; it'd been a taxing couple of days, sure, but maybe it showed on his features more than Alec realised. "I had fun," he tells Magnus, raw and honest. It'd been difficult, looking after a hyperactive, ever-curious toddler while a stack of neverending paperwork awaited his attention in the living room, but it had been completely worth it. 

"I spent a lot of time with him," a fond smile grows on his lips as he talks, their figures resting on the couch smattered with bright moonlight. "There was work, yes- a _lot_ of work- but Max and I cooked meals, built castles, learnt what _not_ to touch in your magical apothecary-" he gives his boyfriend a sheepish look, while Magnus only chuckles, "-and cuddled to sleep every night. We really had a lot of fun. I don't think I've spent this much time with him in like, _years_."

Magnus' eyes are gentle when he says, "I'm glad." Alec debates asking him about his trip- warlocks were pretty secretive about their dealings, and he wasn't sure if his intrusion would be welcome-, but Magnus takes the initiative himself, continuing, "I'm glad you guys had a good time. Honestly- makes the last couple of days _absolutely_ worth it." An exhausted sigh escapes his lips right after.

 _Oh_ , Alec gathers, _not such a fun trip, then._

Discreetly- or as discreet it's possible to be when you're one awkward Shadowhunter utterly in love with your magical boyfriend of five years-, Alec stretches his free arm over the cushions, seeking Magnus' hand. His pale, calloused fingers find soft, bronze ones, entangling themselves tightly together. Magnus' many numerous rings glint sharply in the moonlight, tiny, brilliant shards of rainbow-dust within Alec's gentle hold.

Magnus shifts closer to him, laying his head on Alec's right shoulder and closing his eyes. For one soft, singular moment, Alec feels heart-wrenchingly content.

They sit like that for a while. After what feels like hours (or minutes bleeding into nights and days), a soft shiver runs down his body, trailing whispering goosebumps along. They'd kept the windows open, to let the wayward winds in- which, combined with the dropping temperatures outside, seemed to be reaping distinct countereffects now. Alec shifts; his bare arms and toes feel like budding icicles, but he really, _really_ doesn't want to move.

"Hey," Magnus says in his ear, warm and sleepy. "Relax." A snap of fingers, and a warm, cloud-grey blanket is enveloped around them all, like an impossibly comfortable cocoon.

"Oh," Alec exhales. For all that he considers his boyfriend to be _magical_ , he does forget about his magical nuances more often than not. "Right. Magic." That reminds him- "You know, Max did something similar last night."

"Oh, yeah?" Magnus hums under his chin. "He did magic?"

Alec nods. "We were getting ready for bed, and he wanted to hear a story and have some hot chocolate." Their son had a bigger sweet tooth than any Alec had ever seen; which, considering some of Max's more destructive sugar-hopped tendencies, might grow on to be quite alarming. "I pulled out a copy of _The Dragon Prince_ , and went to get some marshmallows. But he-" Alec shakes his head, still a little dazed, "-he got so excited to hear the story, he pulled me down on the bed and magicked an extra-large mug of hot chocolate, all by himself. The sheets were slightly ruined, but, uh- it was kind of incredible."

Magnus doesn't say anything for a moment; it seems that he can't _articulate_ , impossible though the notion is. Alec understands, because he'd felt the exact same thing last night. Maybe a hundred, a thousand times stronger, because he wasn't as used to seeing magic, not as much as Magnus, and incredibly indeed, their little son was _growing up_. "Magnus? Are you..."

There's a suspicious noise beneath him; Magnus isn't crying, not really, but sounds like he'd very much _like_ to. "You know," he says, voice slow and thick with a mix of fierce pride and adoration and something else Alec couldn't quite put a name to yet, "I always knew he was capable of great feats. With his magic. It's all- _just there_ , bubbling under the surface, threading through his skin- I feel it every day. It's-" Alec feels the shake of his head, Magnus' large hand closing over his own on top of Max's head. "He needs to work on his control, a _lot_ , yes. But summoning something at will- that takes a lot of effort, especially for a young child. It's truly-"

" _Incredible_ ," Alec exhales, the gravity of the words settling like stone under the water of his skin. He's just- so freaking _proud_ , his chest aches with it. "He's beautiful. And incredible. Just like you."

"Just like his Daddy," Magnus refutes, gentle as ever. "We won't be anything without you, Alexander."

That. Of all things in the world, of all the words passed between them in whispered conversation, _that_ is what catches the wrong side of his attention, sparks something funny through his bones. It throws Alec down a spiral; a spiral of long-buried thoughts, tamped down and dusty around the edges. They're so old and so very _battered_ , it shocks him to realise that they're just as potent as they ever were. Maybe more. He needs to throw them out, banish them away. Immediately.

**(** But he can't, can he? Banishing things with a snap was more of a warlock's forte. Alec was many things, but he wasn't a _warlock_. He wasn't- **)**

"Alexander?" Magnus' voice wrenches him out of his wordlessness, if not his thoughts. "Darling, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alec answers, mostly on autopilot.

"No, it's not," his boyfriend sounds stern, _exasperated_ , worry lacing his words. They've talked about this; they've talked about the need to talk, to communicate, the importance of not retiring into a dismissive shell just because it was the easier thing to do. Alec was trying, he'd been trying _so hard_ ; he wasn't retreating because it was the easier thing to do. Wording this out simply didn't feel... any useful. It felt _useless_. He was worrying Magnus for nothing.

They were having a moment, _damnit_. A tender, beautiful moment. Alec shouldn't have been thinking about things like that in the first place.

"Darling," he feels warm hands cup his face, tilting it up as if to physically drag him out of his mind. "Darling, look at me." Alec complies; he doesn't like denying Magnus any more than he likes denying their son. Gold-amber eyes shimmer strangely in the moonlight, dots of glitter smattering his eyelids. _Beautiful_ , Alec thinks; and by the way Magnus' shoulders relax imperceptibly, he realises that he'd said it aloud. Oh well. A reminder never hurts.

"You're beautiful, too," Magnus tells him, because of course he does. He reminds Alec of that every day; it's like a secret between the two of them, a sacred tradition. "And whatever it is that's bothering you, it isn't _nothing_. Talk to me, love. What's the matter?"

Careful of their slumbering son between them, Alec leans down, until his and Magnus' faces are inches apart, foreheads touching. "I love you," he decides to convey first, because that's the most important. It's imperative Magnus never forgets it. "Magnus, I love you. And Max. I love you guys working together, doing magic-"

"Yeah?" Alec feels Magnus' little smile against his cheek. "I suppose you might've mentioned having a fascination with my little tricks now and then. _Not_ every morning when I insist on brewing you a good cup of coffee, mind you, or when you just _have_ to stubbornly do the laundry _physically_ -"

"Some things are better done physically," Alec tells him, the words so familiar on his lips. "Just because you have magic doesn't mean you always have to use it."

"Ah, yes," Magnus nods. "That's one tidbit of Nephilim wisdom I never understood, honestly. _Why_ , when you have all the resources of the world at your disposal, would you ever want to do the chores _physically_? I mean, I get it. You _do_ look mighty good dressed down with a cleaning rag, darling, but-"

And that was it, wasn't it? The root of all his problems? Alec shakes his head, failing to snap himself out of it yet again. "I _have_ to do it," he insists, his earlier logic deserting him somewhere along the way. "I have to do it, because I- I don't have it. What you guys have- I can't just _do_ things at the snap of a finger. I can't _do_ things, or give you anything, or take care of you like you two keep taking care of me. I don't have _magic_ , Magnus. And sometimes, sometimes that makes me feel-"

He stops, suddenly; Magnus wasn't speaking. He'd all but frozen, hands rigid by Alec's face. "Magnus?" Alec whispers, careful of the silence enveloping them. Worry was spiking terribly fast up his spine. "Magnus, are you alright? Did I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that-"

"Alexander," Magnus interrupts him. He doesn't sound upset, not really- he just sounds very level, and very, very _quiet_. "Alexander, my love," and Alec relaxes at that, because Magnus never uses that endearment when he's upset or angry, "tell me- since when have you been feeling like this? Thinking about- _magic_ , like this?"

"Um." Honestly? When has he _not_? Since the first time he realised he loved Magnus, Alec knew there would always be things he wouldn't be able to give him, ways in which he wouldn't be able to satisfy. "I- I don't know. On and off, maybe? It didn't occur to me recently, but after last night-" truly, what a _night_ it'd been, "I guess... I just realised that Max was growing up. Like you. And he'll be able to do things I won't, and," his voice trickles down quieter, softer, "and that- soon, he won't really need me anymore."

 _Like you_ , he doesn't say, because Alec knows that's not fair, know that Magnus needs him, despite whatever poison his insecurities liked to bleed into his head periodically. He knows Magnus needs him, in as much as one needed their loved ones close by, relying on them to find bliss in their usual, day-to-day normalcy. There's always a part of him that'll need Alec, like Alec will always need him- but that is where his needfulness ends, because beyond that, beyond the realm of the mundane, there's so little Alec can give them.

"There's so little I can give you guys," Alec tells him, because at least that's the truth. "And I guess last night, I just realised that very soon you might not need any of that, too."

He basks in the cool silence around, under the snowy blush of the moonlight. His eyes are stuck upon the band of silver encircling Magnus' finger; he'd gifted it to him last year, on their anniversary, an unspoken promise of a future stronger, more solid. He plays with the fingers idly, the feel of Magnus' warmth delicious against his skin- which is why it takes him by surprise when Magnus wrenches their hands apart and instead pulls him down into a fierce hug.

Alec yelps. The angle is awkward, slightly painful. Between them, Max's sleeping form shifts, squirming, so much that Alec is afraid he's going to wake up.

A brush of Magnus' fingers against his horns, and he's drifting off again.

"Alexander," Magnus doesn't give him time to recover, or pull away, not that Alec particularly wants to. Magnus arms are kind of the best place in the world to be. "I don't know from what or where or _whom_ you got such ideas from, but I need you to know that you're _wrong_. You're so incredibly, tragically _wrong_."

"Uh." Alec blinks. "I told you, wasn't a big deal. It was all random anyway-"

"No. _Listen_ to me." Alec snaps his mouth shut, because come whatever may, he _will_ listen, always. His face is buried in the juncture between Magnus' neck and left shoulder, so the words are a hot puff against his nape, firm yet gentle. "You, my love, are one of the most beautiful things to have ever happened in my life. And I've been alive a _very_ long time, so you must know that I don't say it lightly. You're not a warlock, yes- you neither have magic, nor the abilities to perform what one can only do with magic. But you really, truly, don't _have_ to.

"You don't _have_ to do all that, Alexander," Magnus' voice goes all soft and honey-like, and it's like a physical balm against Alec's skin. "I've seen enough magical tricks, I don't care for more. But what _you_ bring into my life- in both our lives- it's something no one else can. _You hold us together_. Despite all our whims and squabbles, our collective inclination towards getting into trouble- you bring us back, you keep us together, in a way no other force in the world could possibly ever can. You're the link between us, darling- between Max and me, you're our family's strongest link."

A little sigh skitters about in the silence. "We'd be so lost without you," Magnus tells him, wistful and somber. It's as if the mere thought of it saddens him. "You, my dear Nephilim, are love and strength and the very incredible resilience that keeps us from giving up on each other. You've taught me gentleness, towards a child and towards myself. You've taught me courage, to pursue all the things that I value more than life itself. You've taught me so many _things_ \- there will never come a time when I won't need you. When _we_ won't need you.

"So please, never think like that." Alec knows his shoulders are quivering, lashes suspiciously wet, but Magnus holds him through it all. "Please never stop believing in us. We take care of you the only way we know how to. Don't compare it with what you serve to give us, for then it's going to be an _immensely_ unfair competition."

"It isn't a _competition_ ," Alec grits out, throaty and thick.

"Exactly," Magnus' fingers are carding through his dark locks, careful and soothing. " _Exactly_ , my love. You take care of us, and we take care of you. We're family. We're forever going to need each other."

 _And that is enough_. Nuzzling into Magnus' warmth, Alec closes his eyes, a deep sense of peace sinking into him. That is enough. That is okay. _He_ is. They- their little family of three- they're always going to be _it_.

Alec breathes in the scent of _Wintercloud_ , of sweat and sandalwood perfume, and curls his hold around his family tighter.

-

  


**+1. (The only thing I can do-)**

  


There's panic, fear, and rage surrounding them; Alec can almost taste it on his tongue. This international Shadow World convention was already going wrong in ways Alec couldn't ever imagine going wrong, and to top it all off, now they had a rogue, war-bent warlock on their hands. Rogue warlock who, cornered by him and Magnus and a bunch of his people, stood snarling with his back to the wall, amber magic swirling unstably around him.

"Stand back!" he yells, an ear-piercing cry, and Alec hears Max whimper behind him. _Angels_ , of all the conventions they thought of bringing their son to, it just had to be _this_.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. It's okay," soothes Simon, crouched on one knee, lanky arms wrapped protectively around the little blue warlock. "It's okay, big guy. Your Dads are currently gearing up to beat some serious magical ass up there- don't let the bad goon intimidate you."

Even a couple of years back, the thought of Max being anywhere near Clary's mundane-nerd-turned-vampire-nerd of a best friend would've given Alec the serious creeps; now, stuck in a potentially violent impasse in some random, dingy alleyway in Paris, Alec's unfairly grateful that he'd invited the guy along. Simon went along surprisingly well with Max, well enough to have carved out a spot for himself as soft and reverent as _Uncle Jace's_. It may or may not have something to with his unhealthy obsession with mundane superhero movies and exhibiting behaviour not unlike that of three-year-old toddlers himself, but at least it's working out for the best. They needed him to keep their son off the battlefield, as much as possible.

 _How I wish I had Uncle Jace with me right now_ , Alec laments in some resigned corner of his mind. He has the string of his bow pulled taut, an arrow poised and ready to fly. He can't actually _let_ it fly, considering the looming Accords re-signing and the political hot soup it'll bring with it, but it's a joyful thought still. _This is it. No more conventions. Next time, I'm leaving Max with Mom and booking Magnus a two-day vacation in Brazil. No way are we having a repeat of this, ever again._

His Shadowhunters are scattered around in a rough half-circle, weapons bared and waiting for orders. The convention makes this a difficult place to level out attacks; their fight could be interpreted as a symbolic disrespect towards the Warlock community, and the seven months Alec spent preparing a couple of Nephilim-Downworlder negotiations to amend into the Accords would be inevitably wasted. Given the current scenario, none of them could afford that. And Alec doesn't want Magnus to have to go against one of his own and gain a black strike against his reputation.

Magnus, who was standing a step ahead, ringed fingers curled and glowing with deadly crimson flames. He seemed least bothered about his reputation, honestly; Alec was afraid he'd go off at the first specific provocation. The guy had attempted to hurt Max, would've almost succeeded had Alec not landed a blow on him and forced him to flee. It'd been a terrifying couple of seconds for him; Alec can only guess how bad it'd been for Magnus.

" _Hyrkalion_ ," he hisses, the other warlocks's name on his tongue dripping with coiled rage and deadly promises. "As much as I loathe to say it, if you come with us quietly, we won't have to get our hands dirty. Who knows, we might even make it for dinner in that excellent Parisian restaurant downstreet."

The humour is as dry as a sandpaper; it brings a little smile on Alec's lips. Somewhere behind them, he hears Simon snort.

Predictably, Hrykalion is too worked up to be properly amused. He tilts his head, face grim; twisted lines mar pale skin, lines that betray cold rage and solid hatred. "Oh, how you wish," his voice is soft, a whisper, but it cuts sharply through the palpable tension. "You think I'm going to give myself up to you? To _them_? Your precious little _Shadowhunters_?" An ugly sneer overtakes his features, fists clenching by his sides. "I only heard rumours of your little _tryst_ with one of those angelic abominations, Bane, but I guess I forgot to take in your own dwindling sensibilities into account. A pity, really."

Alec's fingers tighten over his arrow. Magnus' fists do too, but for different reasons entirely. " _You_ ," he bites out, fire in his voice, "will _not_ speak of him like that. Not another _word_."

"Why? Does it bother you?" Hrykalion blinks at them with faux-innocence. He was clearly trying to get under their skin- and seemingly halfway succeeding. "Does it bother you when I question his name, his _integrity_ , when he and all his people are proof and reason of the entire Downworld's suffering? To think that you, the great Magnus Bane, would've let yourself be swayed by a pretty face, let him climb into bed with you, just for a few years' worth of forbidden romance? You could've gotten that simply anywhere- _you_ , of all people, should know that better than anyone, shouldn't you?"

As much as the words are biting, Alec feels a cool detachment from it all. This was just the enemy's way of making them lose their composure, of tricking them into taking the first wrong step. He takes in a deep breath, re-connecting to the equilibrium of his body. Calm though he feels, he's more worried about Max, for however he's going to interpret this all, and for Magnus, for however he'll choose to react.

He should've, in hindsight, given his boyfriend a little more credit than that. Magnus' fists are raging, the crimson flames licking almost up to his shoulders, but his face is set in stone when he replies, "Hrykalion, I _will_ not ask again. Yield peacefully, and we can all go home. I have no wish to go against one of my own kind- do not force me to do it."

" _Force you_?" the warlock muses. "Oh, I wouldn't dare. I wonder how the Nephilim forced _you_ to be with him? A payment, perhaps, or blackmail- or _oh_ , was it something _rougher_ , unspeakable? Stand-offish as they may appear, I believe Shadowhunters can be quite salacious when they put their minds to it, don't you think so?"

Many of the Shadowhunters around tense at that. A little, enraged snarl makes it's way past Magnus' lips.

"Magnus," Alec warns.

From behind, even Simon seems too fed up to keep his mouth shut any longer. "Dude, _seriously_? You're really gonna go _there_?" He covers Max's ears with his palms, resisting the confused squirming of the boy. "At least be mindful of the kid, man. And for your information, Alec is the least _salacious_ person I've ever met in my life, no offense."

"No one asked _you_ ," Alec mutters, the same time Magnus turns back and throws, "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

Simon goes a little pale around the edges, and covers Max's ears tighter. A couple of people snort around them; and offended or not, Alec is grateful for the distraction. At least Magnus doesn't seem too worked up anymore.

"Hyrkalion," he speaks up, addressing the warlock for the very first time. He ignores the blazing revulsion he sees in the man's dark eyes. "I understand that you have certain... _opinions_ about us, but the purpose of this convention is to establish more peaceful negotiations between our people. This little skirmish will cost us both time and credibility the longer we're at it. Let us all return, and you can... voice out your grievances to the people without having to resort to any violence."

For some reason, that only seems to darkly humour the man. Alec is honestly _done_ with him. "Oh, how simply _delightful_ ," Hyrkalion sniggers, cruel amusement working its way up to his face. "A _Nephilim_ trying to cajole a warlock. Talking about forging _peace_. For a glorified boy-toy, you sure are an interesting one." Orange sparks burst across his fingertips, tensing Alec's body into high alert. "Tell me, did you like it? Worming your way into his bed, sharing all his wealth and his fame? Did you think you could keep us all under a leash for your precious _Clave_ , just by becoming Magnus Bane's trophy-"

Alec isn't even surprised when an errant fireball smashes against the wall just above Hyrkalion's head, jolting him into silence. " _Enough_ ," Magnus growls, eyes ablaze, robes swirling around him, looking every bit the Prince of Hell that he so beautifully was. His magic swells into the air, a palpable inferno, and what a _sight_ he was to behold. "I _swear_ on my Father, if this stupid _convention_ wasn't around, you'd have lost use of your tongue _long back_. If you know what's best for you, you will _shut up_ and _surrender_."

"A warlock worth his magic _never_ surrenders," Hyrkalion whispers. "What a travesty, Bane, that you forget the teachings of your own people. Of course, too much angelic influence would do that to you."

Within his heavily scarred hands, the warlock summons a crackling amber whip. "Behold!" he declares, striking out to create blazing fissures into the concrete, forcing all except for Magnus to take a step back. "This is what the world has come to! Our sacred blood, defiled by the likes of our eternal enemies! It's a _shame_ upon our magic, our ancestors-"

"You know," Simon interrupts him, tone dry and very, very factual, "for a great magical warlock, you do have quite a lot of problem with what's essentially the sweetest and most romantic love story in the entire Shadow World." He wiggles his finger in a way that Alec usually finds severely annoying, but never fails to bring out a bubbling laugh from Max. "I mean, everyone knows 'bout them, dude. And all those who don't support it have the decency to keep their opinions to themselves." His voice sheds some of its levity then, sharpening uncharacteristically. "Even for a dissenting opinion, this is extreme. And here I thought mundanes were the worst when it came to hoarding bigotry."

Alec can't help the stab of pride that hits him with each word; he isn't as ignorant of mundane culture as he was before, but to have such unerring support from someone who's essentially a mundane in _soul_ \- the warmth of acceptance that comes with it is exceptional, honestly. He never thought he'd care much about anyone's opinion on his relationship, much less _Simon's_ , but now that it's out in the open, a ghost of a smile blooms on his lips anyway.

There's a little affirming noise from Max, too. "Yup," Simons says, with faux-seriousness. "The big guy agrees with me too." Alec has his doubts on whatever Max understood of the speech, but it's a happy feeling nonetheless.

What's decidedly _not_ , is the way Hyrkalion snarls and cracks his whip again, flames of orange magic raging higher and brighter. Magnus steps forward, a menacing expression on his face; no matter his rage though, Alec knew he couldn't attempt an actual attack. Convention, and whatnot. Despite their numbers, they were borderline helpless here.

"Hrykalion," Alec calls out, forced plea in his voice. "Please, don't do this. We don't want a fight-"

"Oh, but you'll _get_ it!" the warlock laughs, looking- for all intents and purposes- completely off his hinges. "There was a time when I'd have listened, but _now_? _Absolutely not_! When a great warlock like Magnus Bane turns himself into a _disgrace_ \- when he stoops down and _betrays_ his very people, all for a _Nephilim_ \- oh, no! Not to mention taking in a _child_ , who's no doubt turned into an _abomination_ amidst such vile company-"

Alec doesn't even realise when he's letting the arrow fly from his grip.

When it hits the mark and lodges itself deep into Hrykalion's thigh, cutting him off, he doesn't find it in himself to regret it. Much.

People could hurt and insult him however they wanted. His blood, his name, his actions- the world had every right to judge and criticise every little bit of him. Alec would gladly let it.

If anyone dared insult his _family_ though, he was going to burn down the very ground they walked upon to make it right. Alec would not take any of _that_ lying down, conventions and political hot soup be damned.

"Well," Magnus remarks brightly in the astounded silence that follows, having confined Hyrkalion into magical binds the moment he got the chance, "that was interesting." He turns to raise a half-questioning, half-amused brow at his boyfriend. "Seems like _someone_ here was more impatient than they first let on."

Letting out an exhausted huff, Alec drops his arms. His Shadowhunters were shooting him confused but vaguely admiring glances; even Simon looked appropriately shocked. "Honestly, I've had enough of this place. Let's get out of here."

"Mm-hm," Magnus nods, looking down to his watch. "We still have time for a meal though. What do you say about that Parisian dinner? After what you just did, I think we deserve a little romantic date for ourselves, Alexander."

"Magnus, the convention," Alec reminds him.

"You remember the office getting blown up, right? Courtesy to him," Magnus jabs a finger towards an unconscious Hrykalion. "Pretty sure all the delegates got done in in some way or the other. I say we have _plenty_ of time."

Shoulders dropping, Alec heaves out a sigh. There really wasn't any fighting this; Magnus wouldn't let it go.

" _Whipped_ ," Simon says from the background, vampire fangs glinting in a wide, cheeky grin. _Now_ Alec remembers why he was so reluctant to invite him along. "Oh, Maxie, your Daddy is _so_ gone for Papa, it's ridiculous. Isabelle's gonna love this."

"Don't you dare," Alec glares at him without any heat. He crouches down to one knee, spreads his hands- and in an instant he has an armful of tiny blue warlock barreling into him. "Hey, buddy. Hi," he wraps himself around Max in the tightest hug he can without actually stifling him. "I'm _so_ sorry. Did we scare you there for a moment?"

Against his crumpled white collar, Max shakes his head in negative. "Uncle Simon said he was a bad man," he mutters, fists curling into Alec's shirt. "Daddy and Bapa defeated the bad man!"

"Yeah, we did," Magnus crouches down beside them, eyes fond, ringed fingers tangling into spiky blue locks. "The bad man kept saying bad things about you and me and Daddy," he shoots Alec a wry smile, as if he knew which words he'd taken offense to and which not. "So Daddy got angry and went all Nephilim on him. Our brave, lovely Shadowhunter."

"It was just an arrow," Alec mutters, burying his smile into Max's hair. He kisses his son lightly on the scalp, then on his little horns, and then in the middle of his forehead. "In retrospect, I shouldn't have done it. Angels know how the delegates are going to interpret this now."

"However they interpret it," Simon calls out with confidence, "that guy deserved a sock in his mouth. Or an arrow in his thigh. If Magnus got to him first, I'm pretty sure he'd have demolished him."

"Damn right, I would've," Magnus curls a possessive arm around Alec's shoulder, tugging them all close. "He's lucky Alexander's a mighty tolerant soul. If it'd been a true duel between warlocks, even his Demon Parent wouldn't have been able to save him."

"That's it," Alec declares, deciding to veil his amusement under a layer of familiar annoyance. "You guys are even _worse_ than Jace. I don't think such examples of bloodlust are going to leave any good impressions on a child."

"That's why we have you, right?" Magnus winks at him, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. "If we go too far, you'll bring us back. You always do, Alexander."

Exhaling, Alec touches his cheek to Magnus' shoulder, allowing himself a moment to hold, _cherish_. He thinks back on the years; days when he'd always be on the lookout, intent on having his siblings' back; days when he'd be sacrificing the glory of killing demons, just to make sure that Jace wouldn't come to any harm. He remembers those times when he'd keep an eye out for his allies, his teammates, _Magnus_ , in battles against deadly monsters and deadlier situations. Alec has been doing this for a long time. It's just what he _does_.

It is, probably, the only thing he's ever learnt to do any well.

It's okay. He can do that. He can keep doing that and be there for his family, in whatever way they'll have him.

On some days, on good days like these, Alec feels like this is simply what he'd been born to do. 

  


**(-protect, protect, protect-)**

**(-for as long as I live, I promise I'll keep you safe.)**

  


**Author's Note:**

> And: THE END! 
> 
> What I learnt during the course of writing this story: writing fluff is freaking _hard_. Like, I have new-found respect for those who write tooth-rotting, heart-wrenching fluff with such elegant ease because _writing fluff is freaking hard_. I don't know how the result came out, but writing this was probably one of the hardest things I've ever attempted. Do let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Kudos and bookmarks are incredible, and comments just make my day! Please stay safe, take care, and I hope everyone has a great day/night! Bye bye! 💙💙 (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ


End file.
